


Like, Perhaps Love

by Beewachan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Meet-Cute, explicit content, in one single chapter thus far
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beewachan/pseuds/Beewachan
Summary: A collection of Keiji/Atsumu ficlets (descriptions in chapter titles).





	1. college au, meet-cute... or whatever they’re called

**Author's Note:**

> im going through a noncommittal phase rn so here r some tiny ass fics
> 
> also this is written in the past tense bc it was intended to be a flashback in a fic i’ll never finish lmao

Atsumu had swiped his debit card in the machine at least six times by now, only for it to be rejected tantamount, and he had fished for change in his pockets with no luck. 

“Do you have change for a thousand?” Atsumu had asked Keiji, waiting behind him at the vending machine in the earth science building. “No, but I have an extra coin.” 

Keiji surrendered 100 yen to Atsumu.

—

The second time they had met was only two days later, at the same time and place. “It wasn’t an extra coin, was it?” 

“No, but you were there for a while, so I thought you’d be upset if you didn’t get your drink,” Keiji admitted, struggling to maintain eye contact because, well, Miya Atsumu was, and still is, disarmingly attractive. 

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry?” 

“From the machine,” Atsumu had given it a light kick to gesture toward it.

“Um, just a coffee.” 

“Coffee is, like, infinitely better from the café, but since your kind deed has touched my cold, black soul, I’ll commit blasphemy for you today only.” Atsumu had turned around to punch buttons into the machine and pick up the can of coffee to hand to Keiji. 

Keiji had heard tidbits about Atsumu from Tetsurou since they’re on the university team together, but repaying debts was something Keiji would not have guessed Atsumu practiced based on said tidbits, so Keiji just sort of stood there stupidly and looked back at Atsumu with widened eyes. 

“You gonna take it?”

“Yes, sorry,” Keiji bowed his head slightly in his apology when he brushed his fingers against Atsumu’s to accept the can. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, I guess, but you have to go to the café for coffee next time, or I’ll never forgive you.” 

Keiji blinked in surprise, and he almost lost his coffee to the grass, but he saved it from a fumble. 

“I’ll come with. Meet me there next Tuesday at nine.” 

For fear of looking like more of an idiot than he already had, Keiji turned on his heel and ran down the hall. “See you then,” he had yelled back upon realization that he had forgotten to reply.


	2. meet-cute, 3rd yr hs summer, skater!atsumu, bakery employee!keiji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this could be better but naturally i am not committed enough to proofread

Keiji’s life is pretty boring, he admits it. 

The most interesting event today occurred in a mere ten seconds sandwiched between mixing batter and burning himself in the oven. 

Keiji had gone out to the front of the store to find the green cupcake liners when he saw a group of teenagers skating by. 

Naturally, Keiji, slightly bitter that he’s voluntarily trapped behind the glass wall of the storefront for another five hours until his shift is over, scowled at the group. Keiji thought group paid no mind to him, which was what he had been hoping for. 

Only, one of the five teenagers soon returned Keiji’s gaze, and he lowered a foot from his skateboard to the ground. He looked like a typical skater boy with a hat worn useless and backwards, and one of those awful _Thrasher _tees, and of course, the Vans. But, beyond all that, he wore a checkered fanny pack, and that was unforgivable. He was a real, live e-boy, like a fucking unicorn. 

And he had the audacity to slow himself to a stop while maintaining eye contact. Keiji’s initial instinct was to ignore him and pull the cupcake liners out of the cabinet beside the register, but it was a tall task to ignore the existence of a unicorn.

The unicorn had waved at Keiji, and Keiji had waved back. 

Perhaps the unicorn’s friends were calling for him because almost as soon as Keiji had returned his greeting, he looked forward and skated away down the plaza, leaving Keiji to ruminate over how he wished he could skate away right now, or be with his friends, or just do nothing, but he likes bringing home free cinnamon rolls at the end of the day too much to quit his job.

Now, Keiji hovers over the stainless steel counter in the back room, piping green frosting over red velvet cupcakes when he hears the door ring. He washes his hands and walks outside to see the unicorn is back, but this time, he’s inside the store, and Keiji’s day peaks once again. 

“Hello,” Keiji says quietly, standing behind a display of baked sweets. 

To Keiji’s delight, the unicorn blushes, and brown eyes flick away from and back again to Keiji’s. 

“Hi, um, what's your name?” 

“What’s it to you?” Keiji looks toward the door to see a tall girl and three boys staring at the unicorn and laughing. 

The unicorn follows Keiji’s gaze before turning his attention back to Keiji, propping his elbows on the counter and resting his chin on his fingers folded together. “You’re new here, right?” 

“I’m here for the summer.”

“Wanna be friends?”

Keiji shrugs. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay, cool.” The unicorn pulls his phone out of his fanny pack and opens up a blank contact before handing it to Keiji, who puts his name and number in promptly. “See you around.”


	3. pre-relationship fight but lowkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another bit from that fic i’ll never finish... but make it angst

They had been sitting in a daisy field in Keiji’s dream, on the couch of Keiji’s new apartment in reality. 

“Were you ever my friend?” Atsumu had asked in both. 

In the dream, Keiji had asked Atsumu what he had thought the answer might be. He had picked a daisy and nestled it behind Atsumu’s ear. He had smiled at Atsumu and pulled him into his lap, hands settling on either side of Atsumu’s face afterward. He had pressed a chaste kiss against Atsumu’s lips. 

In reality, Keiji had thought things could have gone more smoothly, especially considering he had his fantastical experience beforehand. 

Keiji had failed to reunite his hand with Atsumu’s since entry into his apartment, and they had sat on opposite ends of the couch. It felt like they were far apart, though if Keiji had extended his leg just a few centimeters, they would have touched. 

“Are you gonna answer?” 

“I don’t think we were ever friends,” Keiji said, pressing his fingertips together in his lap, “and I wouldn’t want to be your friend.” 

Atsumu had laughed — short and humorlessly, but he had laughed. “You’re just like everybody else.” 

Unfortunately, Keiji had found himself unable to shut up. “We could never have been friends, don’t you think?” 

“I think you’re an asshole.” 

“And why is that?” 

Atsumu had scoffed and rolled his eyes, and if he hadn’t leaned back into the couch, Keiji would have thought he was about to leave. “Are you stupid?”

“I’d like to think otherwise.” 

“I thought we were friends.”

Raw honesty: a telltale indication that Keiji had fucked up.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer.” Keiji had debated whether to scoot closer to Atsumu or not, but even when he had tried, his nerves had gotten the best of him. 

“Whatever, I shouldn’t have thought that you’d want to be friends, anyway.” 

“I won’t try to kiss you again unless you ask me to,” Keiji said, as if that would make anything better. 

“That should go without saying.” 

Keiji had nodded, only internally regretting his every decision this evening and categorizing then into file cabinets labeled Mistakes and Bigger Mistakes.


	4. college au, fratboy!keiji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> atsumu lives in the dorm across from keiji’s frat house; he’s like hey turn the music down but ends up w a crush instead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s longer than the others but I couldn’t pick just one part 😭

The floor vibrates beneath Atsumu. The succulent on the window sill dances. Earplugs aren’t deafening enough to save Atsumu from the force of the cha-cha slide. 

After inevitably dancing by himself this early Saturday morning (or some may say late Friday night), Atsumu makes himself semi-presentable for the outdoors and ventures across the street to frat row, particularly to the Delta Psi house. 

The yard is less trashed than usual, but then again, Atsumu normally walks by the afternoon after. There are a couple of flamingos wearing lacy bras and some chartreuse lawn chairs acting as pedestals for empty red cups and a lost pair of tighty-whities.

Knowing the music is too loud for him to be heard, Atsumu doesn’t bother knocking on the door. Instead, he waltzes inside to see six men sliding to the left and one somberly drinking on the corner sofa. Naturally, Atsumu approaches the lonesome one because, although he won’t admit it, the others intimidate him with their cultist ritual. 

“‘Sup,” Atsumu greets. 

The guy nods to him before taking another swig. 

“So,” Atsumu raises his voice to be heard over the deafening musical commands, “Not to be a dick, but do you mind turning the music down?”

Atsumu doesn’t really understand what happens next, but the guy blushes, shakes his head for a no, reaches for the speaker on the couch beside him, and turns it down a solid twenty decibels. 

A series of “Come on, dude”s is met by the somber guy’s middle finger. 

Steely blue eyes stare into Atsumu’s. “Sorry about the music. And them. Unfortunately, they don’t come with volume control.” 

“It’s cool,” Atsumu shrugs. It’s not cool. Atsumu hates housing selection and how he got a stupidly high lottery number giving him the last pick. But he doesn’t want to make enemies with the fraternity that gets to decide whether or not he can sleep, so he lies.

“What’s your name?”

“Atsumu. Bye,” Atsumu turns for the door and hopes the guy doesn’t decide to turn up the volume as soon as he leaves. 

“Good night, Atsumu-bye,” he calls after Atsumu.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿ 

Atsumu settles into a Saturday morning routine. He arrives back from the library at two-twenty (because it closes at two). He changes into pajamas and dances by himself in his dorm (he tells himself dancing is good for his mental health). He fixes his hair in the mirror and puts on slippers before heading over to Delta Psi to announce bedtime. 

Once in fraternity-hell, Atsumu finds the speaker-bearer whose name he never bothered to learn (for fear he’d forget the dude’s name and become enemy to Delta Psi).

Today, the guy with messy, spiky black hair points toward the back door when he sees Atsumu. Boldly assuming that he’s guiding Atsumu toward the emo one he usually talks to, Atsumu ventures outside the house to the pool, where the emo one resides in a lawn chair, his shirt unbuttoned, and his sunglasses over his eyes. Atsumu chooses to ignore that instead of calling him out on it.

“Hi,” Atsumu greets with a nervous smile. 

The boy grins back confidently, casually tossing the speaker into the pool. 

“Fucking fuck, Akaashi!” Bokuto Koutarou emerges from the pool. Atsumu recognizes him from the volleyball team, but he doesn’t want to be known as that asshole teammate who made the music stop, so he runs away before Akaashi, apparently, can say anything to him. 

“Bye, Atsumu!” Akaashi yells once Atsumu’s already back inside the house, on his way to the front door. So much for not being noticed.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿ 

The next Saturday morning, Atsumu goes straight to Delta Psi from the library. 

Cindy Lauper is playing over the speaker — the same one from last week; apparently it didn’t break in the pool. Inside the house, Bokuto Koutarou dances with the spiky-haired guy. Akaashi dances with a female mannequin sporting a curly blue wig when he spots Atsumu, out of his pajamas for the first time.

Akaashi artfully tosses his inanimate partner to Bokuto (correction: on Bokuto, and there are subsequent screams). “You own real clothes?” 

“Shut up,” Atsumu blushes, regretting a) being slightly rude and b) oddly enough, not changing into his pajamas before coming over. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that in an assholeish way.” He did, but still, frat boys send a shiver down his spine, so he tries his best to be nice. 

“It’s cool.” Akaashi picks the speaker off a table and lowers the volume enough that he doesn’t have to yell to talk to Atsumu. “My name is Keiji, by the way.” 

Unable to restrict himself from mocking Keiji, Atsumu says, “Hi, Keiji-by-the-way.”

Dumbly, Keiji stares at Atsumu for what feels like forever before answering him. “I feel like I shouldn’t find you ten times hotter after you’ve just made a dad joke.”

Atsumu had thought it wouldn’t get any more awkward than Keiji’s slightly surprised, intense stare, but, alas, he was wrong.

After a nervous laugh, Atsumu says, “Well, time for me to go.” 

“Dance with me first.” Keiji’s voice is confident and intent, and it makes Atsumu want to die in the best and worst way possible. 

“Dancing isn’t really my thing.”

Keiji pouts before taking Atsumu’s hand. “Just one song.”

Oh, when Atsumu looks into Keiji’s pretty blue eyes, “no” is removed from his vocabulary. 

“Nah.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“That was easier than I thought,” Keiji quietly thinks aloud.

“Excuse me?” Atsumu says in place of “I’ll kill you.” 

“Sorry.” Keiji grins at his new dance partner and twirls him.


	5. pre-relationship, college au, tutor!akaashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so keiji works w the campus tutoring program bc hes poor and tuition exists and he meets this idiot who he’s been tutoring for 5 days with each session til now going overtime

Keiji’s tutoring session has concluded, on time for once, but Keiji hangs back with Atsumu this time. Silently. He pulls out his laptop and continues writing a midterm under the guise of an essay’s label. 

Atsumu sits to his right, annotating his copy of _Hamlet_. Unlike Keiji’s other friends, Atsumu appears to find comfort in quiet company (not that Keiji is suggesting they’re friends because it’s only been five days, and all they’ve talked about is how Atsumu is shit at English and thinking). 

It only takes Atsumu half an hour before he reaches the end of an act and closes his play. “This is boring.” 

“_Hamlet_ is a fantastic read. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“The way they talk is annoying,” Atsumu counters. 

“Then just read the modern translation,” Keiji says bluntly. 

“Why’d we spend two hours going over what thee and thou mean if you want me to read the modern translation?”

“Because when I took the class, the final was an excerpt from the original text, and I had to write an analysis of it in a forty minute period.”

“Are you giving up on me learning Early Modern English?” Atsumu puts his elbows on the desk and his face in his hands. 

“You’re giving up on learning Early Modern English by considering my suggestion,” Keiji counters, and Atsumu’s irked eyebrow raise gives him a small sense of triumph. 

“I hate people who use reverse psychology.” 

“Deal with it,” Keiji says, and the disbelief evident on Atsumu’s face pulls a smile out of Keiji. 

“I don’t even know your name,” Atsumu says, and Keiji’s cheeks redden upon realization that amidst his first-day-of-tutoring angst he forgot to introduce himself to the guy he’s getting paid to help.

“Akaashi Keiji.”

“Akaashi Keiji?” Atsumu repeats. 

Keiji doesn’t answer verbally, but he awkwardly looks Atsumu in the eyes and nods at him. 

“I remember you from nationals, second year of high school. You were that fuck up setter who bounced back, yeah?” 

“You’re so rude,” Keiji scoffs.

“You’re calling me rude, Mr. Won’t Introduce Myself For Five Days?” Atsumu arches a brow again. Keiji can’t blame him, but he won’t go down so easily. 

“And what about you? You haven’t introduced yourself either.” 

“You know who I am,” Atsumu says, and Keiji can’t help but laugh despite himself because Miya Atsumu is finally living up to his reputation. 

“Sorry, who are you?” Keiji asks with a smile, and he’s starting to think he understands Tetsurou’s love for provocation. 

“Come on, don’t do this to me,” Atsumu pouts, putting a hand on Keiji’s wrist. 

“Yes, I know who you are,” Keiji concedes, unbothered by Atsumu’s touch, “but that doesn’t make it any less rude for you to not introduce yourself to me, Miya-kun.”

“Atsumu,” he corrects. 

“Okay, Atsumu,” Keiji smiles. “What made you so sure you didn’t have to introduce yourself, anyway? Do you think you’re famous?” 

“You seemed sorta mad that I was assigned to you, so I figured, ‘oh, he knows the shitshow he’s in for,’ and since you’re friends with Bokuto who pretty much never stops talking, I thought it was safe to assume,” Atsumu shrugs, his hand still on Keiji’s arm. 

Keiji blinks at Atsumu’s choice of words. “I don’t mind that you were assigned to me anymore,” he replies nonchalantly. 

“Careful, I’ll make you take it back,” Atsumu smirks. 

“I don’t think you will,” Keiji challenges, shutting his laptop. 

“You’re leaving?”

“I am. What act are you on?”

“Just finished four.” 

“In that case, you’re welcome to come with me,” Keiji says, and he’s not entirely sure why. 

“Cool.” 

Soon enough, Atsumu is following Keiji to the dining hall. When Atsumu slings his arm around Keiji’s shoulders, Keiji thinks he doesn’t particularly hate this.


	6. pre-first meet, established friendship, pining, college au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> at last atsumu has found his Prince Charming but he is too shy to Make His Move

Atsumu is five, sitting in Mai’s bedroom and staring at her dollhouse.

“I wanna be Barbie today,” Atsumu says, picking her up by her extravagant, tiny (though proportionally huge to Barbie) wedding gown. 

Mai pouts because Barbie is so cool, and she’s her absolute favorite, but she picks up Ken by his black jacket anyway. 

Atsumu is eight. Mai moved away. He doesn’t ask his mom for dolls because Osamu doesn’t like dolls, so they’re not cool anymore. Reading sports manga and fighting over who gets to use the PSP is cool now. 

Atsumu still thinks about playing house sometimes, and he thinks he wants his own ken doll to tell him he looks ravishing in his oversized gown and sweep him off of his feet. 

Atsumu is twelve when he stops thinking about playing house. He thinks about volleyball almost all the time. He thinks about how much he hates losing, and he thinks about how much he hates his teammates who don’t care. 

Atsumu is sixteen when he remembers how it feels to want to wear a wedding dress and stiletto heels for a dark-haired boy with light eyes that’ll steal his heart out of his chest. 

But the boy of his dreams looks different now. His hair is light, and the ends are dip-dyed black. Atsumu wants to erase every thought he has of Kita Shinsuke being fucking loveable and perfect because he does everything with his entire heart, and he never cuts corners, and he’s so polite, and he’s so caring, and he’s so nice to Atsumu for absolutely no reason. 

But he can’t, so he’ll lie in bed and think about Kita Shinsuke until he falls asleep and gets over this stupid cold, and he’ll hope his crush goes away with it. 

Atsumu is seventeen when he bumps into someone who looks like the guy he would fantasize about. He has dark, curly hair, and he has pretty, blue eyes, and he has high cheekbones and full lips, and he’s tall and lean. Oh, no. 

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” he says, clearly distraught. Atsumu gets it. He wishes he didn’t, but he was pretty upset not too long ago, too. Nationals has a way of doing that to people. 

Atsumu moves out of the boy’s way, but he looks back and reads the number 5 off of his jersey. 

Atsumu is nineteen when he sees number five again.  
Atsumu almost doesn’t recognize him.

Keiji takes Atsumu by the hand, prompting him up from his seat on the bed in Atsumu’s cramped single.

The record player’s sound buzzes into white noise when Atsumu looks into Keiji’s eyes. Keiji steps close and gently places Atsumu’s hand on his shoulder. Keiji rests one hand against Atsumu’s lower back, the other against Atsumu’s palm. 

They step together, back and forth, Atsumu’s right, Keiji’s left. Their fingers slip between each other, together like pieces of a puzzle. 

Keiji runs his thumb over Atsumu’s. It’s the simplest of touches, but it makes Atsumu’s heartbeat quicken. 

Atsumu wonders what Keiji would think if he were to lean forward — just barely, almost not move at all. His heart excites at the thought that Keiji wouldn’t mind. His heart rate blasts off into space at the thought that Keiji would want to lean forward too. 

Atsumu doesn’t bring them closer. The nerves shaking his entire being stop him. He hopes Keiji can’t feel them. He hopes he isn’t actually shaking, and it’s all in his head.

It scares Atsumu when Keiji drums his fingertips against the back of Atsumu’s hand. Or rather, it’s scares Atsumu how much he likes Keiji’s fingers tapping his skin. The slow rhythm makes Atsumu want to squeeze Keiji’s hand tight, or maybe yank his hand away.

Keiji’s slight smile keeps Atsumu from running. It coerces Atsumu into staring too long at Keiji’s lips. It pulls a blush out from Atsumu’s heart and spreads it over Atsumu’s cheeks. It causes Atsumu’s breath to hitch.

Atsumu wants to dissolve into Keiji. He wants to be so deeply intertwined with Keiji that they can’t untangle from each other. He wants to pull Keiji closer until he can’t anymore, and he wants to rest his chin on Keiji’s shoulder and lean into the crook of Keiji’s neck.

But this stupid voice in the back of his head asking if Keiji just wants to be friends and the stupid trembling sensation overtaking his entire body will never let him fade into Keiji.


	7. pre-friendship roommates au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this shit is 2 words it don’t need a summary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just like the idea of Keiji taking care of atsumu

Sometimes, Keiji walks into his dorm room and finds his roommate rolling around on the floor (presumably) wallowing in boredom and tire. Today, the roommate’s eyes are closed, and he’s not moving, so naturally, Keiji checks his pulse, which is steady and vrooming. 

Keiji hopes he wakes up soon because he’s sort of in the way of… everything — he’s in the middle of the damn room, but Keiji will let him rest for now. 

[8:02 p.m.  
To: Bokuto-san]  
Your teammate is on the floor again. He reminds me of you. 

[8:03 p.m.  
From: Bokuto-san]  
no  
atsumu bitch  
me good 

[8:03 p.m.  
To: Bokuto-san]  
Bitch or not, should I leave him there? He’s asleep. I’m afraid he’ll bite if I wake him up. 

[8:03 p.m.  
From: Bokuto-san]  
nah he’s harmless  
just rude  
but he’s nice if u bully him enough 

Keiji takes that as an okay to take a blanket off of his bed and toss it over Atsumu, then neatly tucking the cover under Atsumu’s chin.


	8. first meeting, college au again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenjirou is Atsumu’s studybuddy/BFF and they go to study w one other person who happens to be beautiful

By five weeks post-arrival to university, Atsumu has concluded two things. 

One: everyone is significantly smarter and nicer than he is. 

Two: he does not belong here. 

Atsumu has managed to encounter an outlier in number one who, although is indeed much more intelligent than Atsumu, is not the kindest soul, and thus, Atsumu has one single, whole friend on the entire university campus.

This friend has somehow convinced Atsumu to meet and befriend someone else who will inevitably damage Atsumu’s self-esteem, and this encounter, unfortunately, leads to another conclusion and a half. 

Three: Atsumu does not know how to talk to attractive people. 

Three and a half: (and he might be a little gay). 

Atsumu’s singular friend, Shirabu Kenjirou situates himself in the three by three study room, and when Atsumu begins to let the door go since Kenjirou’s walked in, a calm voice thanks Atsumu for keeping the door open. Atsumu looks for the source only to find a friendly smile accompanied by a steely pair of blue eyes looking back at him.

And what little brain he has shuts down. 

It’s a foreign experience, dumbly staring at someone in awe. Usually, Atsumu has no problem sputtering out a greeting or sweet words or even vile ones, but now, he can’t speak, and he can feel his palms start to sweat, and the door slips from his fingers, shutting loudly, and it almost shut on this beautiful boy, and beautiful boys can smell fear, and “Are you okay?” 

“Not really,” Atsumu would answer if he could speak, but he’s a useless idiot, so Kenjirou pulls him down to the only other seat in the study room, and the beautiful boy stands by the whiteboard, picking a marker up off the floor. 

“Akaashi, this is Atsumu, my idiot friend who plays volleyball with Ushijima-san and Bokuto-san.”

“Nice to meet you, Atsumu,” Akaashi greets before doodling on the whiteboard. 

It’s about an hour later when Shirabu gives up on trying to explain to Atsumu how Foucault is relevant to one’s perception of the human body, and he exits the room for a water break.

By now, Akaashi’s resigned to sitting on the floor with his copy of Discipline and Punish, and he looks up at Atsumu in what Atsumu perceives to be the most judgemental stare one can receive from an elevated position. 

“I don’t think the rumors about you being a complete asshole are true. You’re just kind of weird,” Akaashi states like it’s absolute truth.

Atsumu blinks at Akaashi twice and pinches himself for reaffirmation. 

“It’s cool, though. You can still come with Shirabu and me to get high after this.” 

“I don’t smoke,” Atsumu says, and he regrets it almost instantly because it’s the first thing he’s ever said to this guy, but to his pleasant surprise, Akaashi is chill about it. 

“I can respect that.” 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

It’s seven in the evening, and Atsumu’s stretching alongside his teammates after practice. “How have your sessions with Kenjirou gone?” Ushijima asks, not in the small-talk-feigned-interest fashion, but the this-is-the-awkward-way-Ushijima-talks fashion. 

“I still don’t get Foucault, and his friend is hot, and I don’t know how to talk anymore, and apparently I’m gay, and I couldn’t focus while he was helping me because his eyes are too pretty, so, honestly? Real fuckin’ shitty,” Atsumu would say if he were inclined to tell the truth, but he’s not, so he just finishes his stretches and shrugs at Ushijima’s inquiry. 

“If he isn’t helping, you can always go to office hours.”

Atsumu considers it momentarily because he foresees more group study sessions with the great Akaashi in his future, but then he remembers how his psych professor judged him the second week of class when he asked why love is on the hierarchy of needs, and for some reason, Kenjirou’s judgemental looks are more comforting. “Nah, Kenjirou’s cool.”

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

It’s ten at night when Atsumu receives a text from Kenjirou asking why he was especially stupid today. 

[10:12 p.m.  
To: ushiwakas friend]  
keiji hot

[10:12 p.m.  
From: ushiwakas friend]  
LOL  
no shot in hell

[10:13 p.m.  
To: ushiwakas friend]  
u callin me ugly?

[10:13 p.m.  
From: ushiwakas friend]  
nah  
you know what i mean 

[10:13 p.m.  
To: ushiwakas friend]  
unfortunately


	9. yet another college au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> atsumu is called a fuckboy 999999x and one pretty person tells him what that means because he is an idiot and does not know

The first day Atsumu walks into the gym for volleyball practice, Komori Motoya, whom Atsumu is very familiar with from youth national team training camp, looks at him, rolls his eyes, and scoffs, “fuckboy.” 

X

The first day Atsumu walks into his residency, the RA Kuroo Tetsurou spares a glance at him, points him in the right direction, and mutters “fuckboy,” under his breath (with a hint of disdain and an impish grin) . 

X

The first time Atsumu walks into his dorm room, there’s a sophomore, Bokuto Koutarou, who stops mid-sentence to glare at him. Even the blond boy with the tongue piercing that Atsumu remembers from orientation stares at him. In unison, they utter, “Fuckboy,” with a shaking of their heads. 

And this is when Atsumu finally speaks up. “What the fuck is a fuckboy?”

“It’s like ‘whore,’ but exclusively for males,” a dark-haired boy, a freshman Atsumu assumes, answers. 

“I’m offended.”

“You should be if even Yuuji calls you a fuckboy.” 

By process of elimination, Atsumu decides Yuuji is the blond one, who decides to sling his arm around the dark-haired boy’s shoulders, in what Atsumu can only guess is a fuckboy-like manner. 

“Why does everyone keep calling me that?” Atsumu frowns.

Koutarou clucks his tongue in disapproval. “The mirror’s right there,” he points toward the bathroom door which provides a reflection of Atsumu in the form of a small circle hanging from a rope on a hook. 

Truth be told, Miya Atsumu isn’t one for the opinions of others. In fact, he recalls his first “I don’t give a shit,” during his second year of life. 

But he will _not _be berated to fuckboy status, now that he knows what it means, especially not in front of someone as devastatingly attractive as the boy who’s informed him what the status signifies.


	10. another meet-cute college au, are you surprised?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bokuto and kuroo set up Keiji and atsumu

Practice has concluded after a sweaty five hours, and while Atsumu would love to stay for extra, Koutarou — The Bokuto Koutarou — places a casual arm around Atsumu’s shoulders and says, “I get it, love of the game and all, it’s fun, but aren’t you tired?” 

If Atsumu weren’t a compulsive liar, he’d probably say, “Of course I’m tired,” but he is, so he mock-laughs, “Me? No way.” 

Unrelenting, Koutarou tightens his grip on Atsumu’s shoulder as if he’s afraid Atsumu will run back toward the volleyball basket. “We did extra practice the other six days of the week. Today, we take a break.” 

Atsumu is a bit curious, and he knows curiosity killed the cat, but still, he asks, “What d’ya mean ‘we’?”

“I mean Kuroo and I noticed you have no life this past semester, so you’re gonna meet our friend who, likewise, has no life, and you’re gonna be friends instead of having no lives.” 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿ 

Standing in his dorm room, Atsumu is still appalled that Koutarou dare set him up, not recognizing the irony that he just played matchmaker himself (either destroying or beginning Motoya and Kiyoomi’s relationship). 

In front of the vanity, Atsumu messes up his hair, but he’s careful not to muss it to the point that he’s absolutely unpresentable. He combs his bangs back, letting a few hairs straggle above his eyes in uneven intervals. 

He’s decided that he wants to fuck this whole meeting thing up. Not in the “Hell yeah, let’s go fuck it up!” sort of way, but the “I’m so screwed that I’m gonna fuck it up, so I won’t have to deal with this anymore” sort of way. 

He shrugs on a t-shirt captioned “you just got served” with a volleyball in place of the o. It’s a bit wrinkled, and he thinks that might repulse Koutarou’s friend. He hopes. 

Friends are of no use, anyway. 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿ 

Koutarou and Tetsurou practically drag Atsumu out of his dorm room all the way to the campus library that, of course, is farthest from Atsumu’s building. 

“Why the fuck are we going to a library to meet your friend?” 

“No life, remember?” Koutarou asks, gripping Atsumu’s shirt by the volleyball print. 

“Yeah, the last time I saw Akaashi outside his study room was, like, two weeks ago, and that was in a research lab,” Tetsurou affirms behind Atsumu, pushing him through the library’s main entrance. 

When they reach the study room, all the way in the back of the third floor, Tetsurou pushes Atsumu perhaps too hard because Atsumu gives a firm “you suck” as he trips, his face colliding with Koutarou’s shoulder. 

And fuck, it hurts. 

Atsumu sees black, primarily because it’s the color of Koutarou’s shirt, and secondarily because he has yet to move. 

Until Tetsurou plucks him off of Koutarou, says, “Let’s go, dude,” and leaves Atsumu vis-á-vis with a dark-haired, glasses-wearing, note-jotting loser. Well, that’s the impression Atsumu gets by the time the door behind him is shut, anyway. He tries to twist the knob open, but his teammates must be blocking the door because it. Will. Not. Open. 

“Hi,” the loser says, and awkwardly, Atsumu turns back toward him and his similarly messy hair. The loser hasn’t looked up from his notebook, at least not since Atsumu’s been looking at him, but he’s sitting at a chair opposite Atsumu with his eyes hovering over a textbook and his hand penciling words in a composition book. 

“Hi,” Atsumu says, (reluctantly) pulling out the chair closest to him, which happens to be across from the other boy. 

The loser doesn’t react, so Atsumu taps his fingers lightly on the table, barely audible.

Again, the loser is lost in his reading, so, expecting no acknowledgement, Atsumu says, “Heard you have no life.” 

“Likewise.” Loser-chan, as Atsumu has dubbed him in his thoughts, writes some more. 

“Not sure what they had in mind out there, but I don’t really wanna be friends.” 

To this, Loser-chan looks up, meeting Atsumu with bright, blue eyes and an easy laugh that makes Atsumu want to take back the last three minutes for a do-over. “Me neither,” Keiji says. 

Simultaneously, Atsumu observes, “Holy shit, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

There are hyena laughs outside that make Atsumu wish he hadn’t spent so much time with his excessively forward brother and his stupid friend, Yuuji, lately, but it’s too late. 

Atsumu will just have to go find a new volleyball team. 

Without Tetsurou and Koutarou, who will undoubtedly taunt him for being so stupidly and carelessly horny. 

“Fuck,” Atsumu punctuates as if the red of his cheeks weren’t enough to communicate that he thinks he’s in a bit of a pickle.

Loser-chan hasn’t answered Atsumu yet, but there’s an amused look on his disturbingly pretty face when he gets up and opens the door straight into Kuroo Tetsurou’s face, and by extension, Bokuto Koutarou’s. 

“That fucking hurt, Akaashi.” 

His name is Akaashi, Atsumu notes. Akaashi looks very pretty while he’s hurting his friends with a door, Atsumu also notes. 

“Go away,” Akaashi says. Atsumu cranes his neck to see Tetsurou rubbing his cheek and Koutarou staring up at Keiji with the look of a child caught taking an extra cookie against his mother’s orders. “Now.” And almost magically, Tetsurou and Koutarou vanish out of thin air (or they’re just fast and probably terrified). 

Akaashi stays holding the door, and if that weren’t invitation enough, he says, “You can go now if you’d like.” 

“Um, I’d rather stay here… I mean, if and only if that’s cool with you,” Atsumu says, holding his hands up to portray himself as inoffensive. 

“Doesn’t matter as long as you’re quiet.” 

“Sure, when are you gonna take a break from your notes?” 

Instead of giving Atsumu the “what the fuck did I just say” look like he expected, Akaashi coolly answers, “When I finish the chapter.” 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

“I think I would die for you,” Atsumu sighs dreamily as Keiji puts his pen down.

“I think you’re crazy.”

“Yeah, me, too, but at least I know I’m not a sociopath now,” Atsumu gives an easy smile. 

“You’re much less tactful than I thought you’d be.”

“Nobody’s had the guts to say that to me before,” Atsumu says as Keiji unzips his backpack and loads it with his books and pens. 

“Glad to be the first.” He zips up his bag, stands, and slings it over his shoulder. “I suppose I should properly introduce myself. I’m Akaashi Keiji, a first-year.” He bows his head like the polite fucker he is.

“I’m Miya Atsumu.” 

Keiji chuckles, but Atsumu’s never been told that he’s funny before. “I know who you are.” Okay, so it wasn’t a “haha” laugh, it was a “you’re entertainingly foolish” laugh.

“You do?” 

“You’re kind of a household name among volleyball players — well, you were in high school. I don’t play anymore.” 

Like Keiji said, Atsumu is imprudent, so he asks, “Why?”

“We’ll save that for another date.” 

“Cool. Wanna make out? Hang out! I meant hang out!” 

“You do know that it’s almost one in the morning, correct?”

Atsumu nods. 

“See you tomorrow, Atsumu.”

“Bye, Keiji. Can I call you that?” 

“I’ll think about it.”


	11. fake relationship au, roommates au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there’s a girl obsessed w atsumu so keiji pretends to be his bf

Atsumu is trying his best to ignore, really, he is. He can easily walk where he wants when he wants without paying attention to anyone else around him. The problem comes when she touches his hand, and then his arm, and then it’s not just a touch but a grab, and she’s following him around like she’s been for the past week, but with more _touching_. 

And he doesn’t even know her name. 

He tried to tell her to stop, but even when he wasn’t particularly nice about it, she’d laugh and tell him how funny he is. It isn’t until they’re at the sophomore dormitory, outside of his room when she tries to hug him that he loses his shit. 

“Please, please, _please_ stop fucking talking to me! I don’t even know you! And it’s really, really creepy when I get texts from numbers I don’t know sending me good night messages because you just _know_ that I’m about to fall asleep. Please stop stalking me,” Atsumu ends a bit quieter when he realizes others are staring. He was very careful to use persuasive language like the word “please” since nothing else seemed to be working. 

“What do you mean you don’t know me, silly? We’ve been sharing so much about each other this past week! I was thinking… we’re just about ready for our first date now, aren’t we?” She asks, her eyes wide, and Atsumu is about to scream.

“We can’t go on a date.”

“Um, why? It’s not like you’re da—”

“I am,” he interrupts her, and his roommate, smiling slightly and waving, just happens to be the first person in his line of sight. “I’m gay. Totally gay. Completely gay. Inconvertible. The pastor said so himself. My boyfriend would be totally upset if we went out on a date, so we can’t. In fact, he’s coming right now. Hey, uh, boyfriend!” Atsumu waves back.

His roommate, Keiji, returns a rather confused expression in a wordless response, but he reverts to neutral when Atsumu’s lady-friend turns to stare at him. 

“You never told me about your boyfriend,” she says, bitterly yet despondently.

“You never told her about me?” Keiji asks, and as grateful as Atsumu is, he can’t help but think about how annoying it is that he’ll have to owe Keiji for this. 

“It never came up,” he shrugs. 

“I’ll forgive you, darling,” Keiji smiles sweetly as he nears and pecks Atsumu on the cheek, “but only if you come inside with me right this second.” He unlocks the door while ignoring the young woman sputtering a jumble of words at him, and soon enough, he and Atsumu are safely inside. “Would you like to tell me what that was about?” 

Atsumu, still standing against the door, raises a finger to his lips and points at the wood behind him.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell that poor girl you have a boyfriend; she was obviously interested,” Keiji says loud, about ten times louder than his typical volume. 

“I know, babe, I’m really sorry.” 

“I don’t think I believe you,” Keiji shakes his head although he knows only Atsumu can see. 

“You want me to prove it?” 

“Yeah, come here.” Keiji curls his index finger a couple of times before going to close the curtains. “Kiss me.”

“Are you serious?” Atsumu whispers once he’s seated on Keiji’s bed and Keiji is close enough 

“Just make the sounds,” he murmurs back.

“How do I do that?” 

“Moan, or something, but not like you probably did when you were twelve. Do it for real, like you would now.”

“I can’t just moan on command, dude!” Atsumu glares pointedly, but he still whispers, like a whisper-shout.

“Fine, I will.” Keiji keeps to his promise. The sound alone is enough to make Atsumu squirm, but Keiji begins to flush, and the sound really brings attention to Keiji’s lips, pink and parted just slightly.

Atsumu stares at him in awe for about a minute until the noise ceases. 

“Think she’s gone yet?”

Atsumu contemplates lying just to see if Keiji will take it further, but he says, “Yeah.”


	12. pre-relationship, college au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keiji is a bit out of character... he’s That Dude, you know, the one involved in Everything

Miya Atsumu has always been a bit of an asshole. This, he is aware of. However, he is very much capable of being nice, and he _likes_ being nice… but some people (he sighs) are just _so_ annoying that he can’t bring himself to be nice to them. 

Akaashi Keiji, for example. He’s everywhere. 

Outside of the dining hall: 

“Hello! Would you be interested in registering to vote?” Keiji asks. 

Atsumu, already registered, rolls his eyes and shoves the flyer Keiji holds out back into Keiji’s face. 

In the residence’s common room: 

“Good morning, beautiful!” Keiji smiles, with his stupid plain white shirt, scrawled with kind phrases in black sharpie. 

“Go fuck yourself.”

In the gymnasium during volleyball matches: 

Keiji holds up his “Push it, Push it, Tokyo!” sign and his face cut out of Bokuto Koutarou. He also cheers when Atsumu serves. 

Atsumu scores a service ace and gives Keiji the finger. 

In the library: 

Atsumu wasn’t aware that his face buried in an orgochem book meant that he wanted company, but still he hears a chair quietly being picked up, pulled, out, and the floof of it being sat in. 

“Hi,” Keiji whispers with a smile. “Wanna study together?”

“Fuck off already.” 

Outside the science building: 

“Good afternoon, Miya-kun, would you like to participate in the queer community of todai’s day of silence tomorrow?” Keiji holds out a silent sign for Atsumu to pin to his shirt. 

Walking away, Atsumu doesn't take it. “No, but I’d like it if you did.” 

Atsumu, since arriving to University of Tokyo, has grown irritated with Keiji and his peppy attitude. However, he’s also grown rather fond of it since he’s on the receiving end of it every. Single. Day. For the last semester and the current one. 

So, when Keiji keeps his lips shut this Friday, it freaks Atsumu out, to say the least. Sure, he thinks Keiji is super fucking annoying, and he thought he’d like a day without his ultra-sweet comments, but he walked by Keiji in the residence hall this morning, and Keiji said _nothing_. 

And now they’re back in the library, and Keiji is sitting across from him with that rainbow “observing the day of silence” sign pinned to his chest, and he hasn’t greeted Atsumu once today, and Atsumu abso-fucking-lutely hates it. 

“Hi,” Atsumu whispers. 

Keiji waves and smiles, with his teeth and dimples and crinkled blue eyes. 

Oh, no. It is now that Atsumu realizes he’s just started a conversation with _the_ positivity boy, and Atsumu was raised right, so he doesn’t just abandon conversation if he starts it. __

_ _Instead he continues awkwardly, as one should. “What’s this silence shit about, anyway?”_ _

_ _Keiji holds his index finger out to Atsumu, ripping a piece of paper out of his notebook. Literally ripping it, unevenly and leaving odd triangles. Atsumu cringes. _ _

_ __LGBTQ oppression_, Atsumu reads in Keiji’s absurdly neat handwriting. _ _

_ _Now, Atsumu’s about as sure of his sexuality as the next guy, but the humanist in him (and there’s not much) compels him to ask (or demand), “Give me a stupid sign.” _ _

_ _And of course Keiji — the fucking nerd — just so happens to have a spare sign in his backpack, and he eagerly pulls it out, with rainbow pins and all, to hand to Atsumu. _ _

_ _Before Atsumu takes it, he clarifies, “this doesn’t mean I’m gay or anything like that.” And he reaches under his shirt to connect the pin to its backing. _ _

_ _Keiji winks._ _


	13. first meeting, college au, florist!keiji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so atsumu is doing shit for osamu cuz he owes him and he sees the almighty Akaashi Keiji and loses his shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay ive gone all the way back to fuckin september 2018 in the wips so i think that’s enough for the night lol

With a sigh, Atsumu accepts it as a fact of life: he owes Osamu for lying about eating his instant rice, and he’s broke, so he has to be his brother’s bitch for another two hours. Task thirteen entails stepping into a grossly pink flower boutique and picking up a “I’m really, really sorry I lost your Gucci flip flops to that stray dog on 45th and 2nd” bouquet for Osamu’s friend.

The flower shop is close to campus, so Atsumu doesn’t mind walking there as much as he did walking an hour to the pet store to buy mealworms for the chameleon living in Osamu’s fraternity’s house. 

What Atsumu does mind, other than the clashing neon purple and the hot pink stripes on one wall, is who he sees when he walks inside of the flower shop. 

Naturally, despite the flower shop personnel waving a hello, Atsumu rushes outside and pulls out his phone to call Osamu. “Why didn’t you tell me the flower boy was hot?” Atsumu whispers (at least he tries to) aggressively into his phone. 

“How was I supposed to know the one you like was on shift?” Osamu scoffs. 

“What’d’ya mean the one I like? This is my first time seeing him.”

“Dude,” Osamu pauses like there something Atsumu’s supposed to be getting. He isn’t. “Whenever he’s on my Snapchat story, you’re like ‘your friend’s so hot, oh my god, I’m such a thirsty slut, give me his snap,’ and shit like that. Don’t you recognize him, or do you do that to everyone?”

“It’s your hot friend?” Atsumu whisper-shouts. “He looks different in the pink apron!”

“He’s the same person.” 

“Wait, how do I know we’re talking about the same person?”

“Twin sense,” Osamu drones. “Kidding. There’s only one hottie who works at the flower shop. I mean, unless you like freshmen with dyed hair resembling a pineapple.”

“And you know this from your hot friend?”

“Just get the fuckin’ flowers, ‘Tsumu.” Before Atsumu can inquire more about Osamu’s hot friend, the line goes dead. 

“Bitch,” Atsumu mutters into the phone as if his brother can still hear, but he soon after closes his potty-mouth, straightens his posture, and opens the door. The bells above him rings, and he’s greeted by Osamu’s friend again. 

“You’re not going to immediately walk out this time, are you?” He asks. 

“I just might,” Atsumu answers with raised eyebrows as he approaches the counter. That earns Atsumu a smile. Suddenly he’s glad he ate his brother’s food. “So, could I get your name maybe?”

“Akaashi Keiji. Pleased to meet you,” Keiji says, bowing his head ever so slightly. 

“Miya Atsumu.” He bows in return, but given the general irreverence Osamu must complain about him with, it comes off a bit more insincere than he’d like it to.

“You’re picking up Osamu’s order for Shirabu?” Keiji asks. He gets straight to business; Atsumu can respect that. 

“I am! How’d you know?” Atsumu glows, leaning over the lavender counter and propping himself up on his elbows. 

“Just an educated guess,” Keiji shrugs. (Osamu had called not once but three times that day: once to place an order, twice to complain about Shirabu’s hate for tulips and to then change his order, and thrice to let Keiji know someone else is picking up the order, and yes, he was aware Keiji was on shift after calling three times. That’s why he sent Atsumu there after having him do volunteer work that consisted of cleaning sheep shit at a pen.)

Before Atsumu realizes it, Keiji is bent over to get a bouquet-filled vase from a bottom shelf, and oh, my, is it getting hotter in the shop? 

“Sorry, the air conditioning broke earlier,” Keiji says upon rising, seeing Atsumu fanning himself. 

“No problem at all.” Atsumu flashes a smile, grateful to know that he isn’t _just_ melting because Keiji is smokin’ hot, but he is, in fact, sweating due to literal heat. 

“So,” Keiji stops to stare at Atsumu — who only dreamily grins back — “it’s ¥52,400.”

“Jesus, why doesn’t he just buy another pair of Gucci flip flops at this point,” Atsumu says, pulling a card out of his wallet.

“He already did.”

“What? Does ‘Samu, like, for real like him, or something?” Atsumu whispers.

“Something like that.” Keiji smiles, swiping Atsumu’s card and handing him the eye-bleedingly-bright, red vase. 

“Cool.” Atsumu grabs the flowers and his choice of payment method, careful to brush his fingers against Keiji’s in the process. His feet don’t particularly want to move. 

“Your body spray is a bit overdone, don’t you think?” He’s mean, too; Atsumu most definitely respects that. 

With a wink, Atsumu replies, “There’s a reason for that.” 

“Enlighten me.” Keiji’s lips pull into a curve, his blue eyes blinking. Atsumu is close enough see his eyelashes brush against his cheeks. 

“I couldn’t bear to subject you to my awfully strong aroma long enough to tell you.”

“See you then.”

Atsumu waited a moment to see if Keiji would change his mind and maybe ask Atsumu to stay, but Keiji had disappeared to the back before Atsumu could say, “but I’d be happy to tell you all about it over the phone.”

Bummer. 

Guess he’d just have to beg Osamu to invite him out to something Keiji’s going to, too. Or Atsumu could be like a normal human being, accept that this person isn’t interested in him, and let chance do its own thing, maybe bring him and Keiji together again, maybe have them never see each other again, but, I mean, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it? 

So, Atsumu marches out of there with his head held high as he goes across the street to pick up an apology card to go along with the bouquet, like his brother requested.


	14. sex lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re in college, (both on the volleyball team hence why Keiji is inclined to dislike Atsumu just a little bit) and they’re fuckbuddies

“You know,” Atsumu rakes his fingers up Keiji’s hair, but he doesn’t finish his thought, pressing a kiss against Keiji’s ear instead. Keiji doesn’t mind. Before Atsumu can send shivers down his spine with another hot breath, Keiji pulls himself up.

Looking down into brown eyes, Keiji rocks his hips into Atsumu’s, and he watches Atsumu’s eyes flutter to a close with a sudden breath. At this proximity, Keiji thinks he can count every eyelash Atsumu has if he really wants. They’re thick and dark, a lovely contrast against flushed pale skin.

Keiji thinks Atsumu is a perfectly appreciable sight, enough that he forgets that he hates Atsumu, just a little bit. He hates that no matter how desperately he wants to hate Atsumu, he can’t move his heart to anything except for a stupid skip, not when Atsumu’s eyes open with a quiet gasp, not when Atsumu looks at him like _that_.

Like he’s all Atsumu can think about.

Like Atsumu doesn’t want to think about anything but _him_.

About how he’s so close to Atsumu.

About how he’s so deep inside of Atsumu.

About how he makes Atsumu’s back arch.

Slowly fucking into Atsumu, Keiji feels Atsumu’s grip tighten in his hair, the not-so-gentle clawing at his back. What’s better than the touch, Keiji thinks, is knowing that Atsumu wants him just as badly.

He can feel it, when he presses his tongue against Atsumu’s moan, just how close Atsumu wants to be to him, with him, to wrap around him like a kudzu, root inside of him, share his vitality, overtake him, monopolize every last centimeter of Akaashi Keiji, weave through his brain until he can’t think about anything else either.

And Keiji can’t.

Atsumu draws every last bit of passion out of Keiji and takes it all for himself, all into himself.

A shared moan lingers amidst their tongues. Atsumu’s fingers remain planted in Keiji’s hair, though they loosen in place. Keiji pushes into them, giving Atsumu air to breathe. He cedes himself to Atsumu, letting himself fall against warm cum on Atsumu’s abs and rest his chin in the flushed crook of Atsumu’s neck.

Keiji feels Atsumu’s pants simmer against his cheek. He feels Atsumu’s fingers graze against his back, find their way to his. He feels Atsumu’s heart rate against his thumb when their hands lie flat against each other. It’s fast, and when Keiji closes his eyes, he thinks it’s loud, the only thing he can hear, and it doesn’t calm down, so neither does Keiji’s.

“I wanna be more than someone you just hatefuck,” Atsumu whispers quickly; it takes Keiji longer to process the words than it does for Atsumu to say them.

Atsumu’s pulse is louder than before, but the words overpower it. They stare into Keiji’s closed eyes, and they don’t blink.

“That’s what I was gonna say earlier.”

Keiji can't bring himself to meet their gaze, but he lets his breaths slow against Atsumu’s neck. He presses words laced in kisses against the soft, pink-tinged skin.

Entwining their fingers with a gentle squeeze, Keiji kisses again. 

“That’s fine.”


	15. What I Wish He Would’ve Said to Me

“Darling,” Atsumu says, fingers gingerly stroking the tender skin of Keiji’s shoulder. His breath tickles Keiji’s neck. “I wanna be adored.” 

“Then it’s a good thing that I adore you, isn’t it?” Keiji asks, his lips brushing against Atsumu’s hair and face. 

Atsumu presses kiss against Keiji’s neck. “I want you to tell me that you can’t live without me.” 

“That’s technically incorrect.” 

Lacing his fingers with Keiji’s, Atsumu lifts Keiji’s hands to either side of his head and pins them down on the white sheets. “Wrong answer.” 

“Oh?” 

Atsumu smiles mercilessly when he presses his open mouth against Keiji’s neck. 

“Atsumu, I have a meeting tomorrow.” 

“Just use makeup.”

Keiji represses a sigh but let’s himself moan when he feels Atsumu’s tongue against his skin again. “Atsumu, I don’t like the idea of my life without you, and though it’s incorrect to say that I’d die without you, I would figuratively die inside because I’d feel emotionally dissatisfied — incomplete, if you will — without you.” 

Smiling against the thin, painted red skin of Keiji’s neck, Atsumu says, “Baby, that was all I wanted to hear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sry it’s been so long since I’ve written creatively feels like I’ve forgotten how

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 💖


End file.
